My Memoir Backstory: Esther LeBaron Spencer de McDonald — And More Perils of Polygamy — Part 19-C

Beulah Stephany Spencer de LeBaron in 1962 on our “ranch” in Colonia LeBaron, Chihuahua, Mexico.


“Nearly all men can stand adversity,
but if you want to test a man’s character,
give him power.”
Abraham Lincoln

I left off in “My Memoir Backstory: Esther LeBaron Spencer de McDonald — And More Perils of Polygamy — Part 19-B” commenting:

In Homer Babbit’s kiss
There was no bliss,
Though that was my very first kiss!
And my very first date …
But, barely a kiss and barely a date;
Yet, Ervil prophesied Homer was my fate!

And now I wax into full-fledged, half-assed poetry,
Because no matter how “Homely Homer” kissed me,
I would’ve missed marital bliss, believe me.
Because, despite Ervil’s wheelings ‘n’ dealings,
I felt no friendly feelings
For this pockmarked Mormon Mister.
He could go marry my sister!!

In reality, my love-sick stomach was reeling:
Because, when it came to “celestial” sealing,
I longed to be kissing Bill Tucker,
Not this pock-marred, scarred-faced fucker!

Talk about an upcoming frigid Miss
In a marriage devoid of connubial bliss,
Because she was stuck in bed with
A man she couldn’t kiss
And a marriage missing luster,
Thanks to Ervil, the fuckin’ “fuck-Buster”!

But, to further forward his meddlin’,
While my present and future peddlin’,
Evil Ervil, chief head of “Cult LeBaron,”
Called my parents to a meetin’, wherein
I could secretly slip out the back
To meet my soon-to-be “quack”/spouse
Without my parents about the house
To smell the lousy “louse” trap
Set behind their manipulated back
To catch ‘n’ mate their poor little “mouse,”
And her to a polygamist man espouse!

All I remember about my one-and-only meet-up
With my arranged husband-to-be, in this prenup,
Is being surrounded by adesert mesquite and cacti outback,
In homely Homer’s hidden black Cadillac,
And both of us blushing to beat the band
As we self-consciously took each other’s hand —

The first time I’d ever been alone with the man!
And now we were expected to take a stand
And solemnly join our compromised lives …
Expected to make our wedding vows …
By telling each other lies?

With heated and flushing countenance
Completely bathed in moonlight intense,
We couldn’t hide how uncomfortable we felt
To be together alone that night …
And unable to utter a word …
In a setting “utterly” absurd:

I, a naïve sixteen-year-old,
And soon a child bride to be;
He a marred-faced American-Mexican
Going on forty-three.

We two didn’t know each other;
And had never been together before–
Nor even been introduced afore
That secret evening rendezvous
When this man I never knew
Suddenly met me at my door!

… And now I’ll say no more,
Till next week’s blog
Promising more tales galore.

(Continued September 20, 2017: “My Memoir Backstory: Esther LeBaron Spencer de McDonald — And More Perils of Polygamy — Part 19-D”)


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